Assaulted Pretzel (16 page)

“Not fit to be a wife? Are you kidding me?” She pulled Esther in for a quick hug and then released her with a smile. “Eli knows he has a special woman in you and it won’t be long before he asks for your hand in marriage.”

A telltale flush rose up Esther’s neck and into her cheeks. “He is taking a long time.”

“Because he’s trying to prove himself worthy.” And it was true. He was.

Eli was a hardworking young man who was completely devoted to his twin sister, Ruth, and his family as a whole. When he wasn’t next door helping Ruth with Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, he was working alongside Ben in their family’s fields with an enviable determination. But despite his steadfast devotion and stellar work ethic, Eli struggled with a temper that had him asking for forgiveness during many an Amish church service. It was a habit he was working to break as much for Esther and Esther’s father as anyone else.

“He does not need to prove himself to me. I know he is a good man,” Esther whispered as she scooped the toy from the counter and held it out for Claire to see. “This is called a Jumping Jack. You pull this string, here”—Esther gave a gentle tug—“and the legs and arms move in dance.”

Claire clapped her hands then reached for the toy, the arms and legs moving up and down in reaction to her own tug of the string. “Oh, Esther, this is adorable. Where did it come from?”

“From my uncle, Isaac Schrock. He stopped in the alley to speak with Eli and I told him my little sister felt poorly yesterday. He gave me this toy to bring to her.” Esther nudged her chin in the direction of Claire’s hand and giggled softly. “See? It is hard not to play with it, no?”

She matched Esther’s laugh with one of her own as she tugged on the string one last time. “Very hard. Your sister will love it.” Looking down at the toy, she handed it back to Esther. “I take it Isaac made that?”

“He did. It is one of his…I don’t know how to say it properly…
special
toys. It is the one he uses to tell of Lapp’s Toys.”

“Oh. Like a signature toy?”

The doll’s appendages moved under Esther’s expert hand.
“Yes, that is the right word. He uses it on a corner of each of his pages in Mr. Lapp’s catalogue.”

Her head snapped up. “Catalogue?”

“Yes. You know of it. You have seen it.”

She briefly slid her hand inside her front left pocket and fingered the folded note it held, her head nodding along with Esther’s words even as her mouth started spewing out questions. “Esther? Can I ask you something? Do you have any idea whether Daniel’s mail-order business has been all that successful? I mean, I know he gets orders, and I know it’s increased his business, but has it made a
big
difference?”

Drawing the doll to her chest, Esther’s eyes widened. “Oh, Claire. It made a very big difference. For Mr. Lapp and for my uncle. It is the reason Mr. Lapp sold off a part of his farm to Mr. Stoltzfus.”

“Wait,” Claire said. “I don’t understand. What does the toy catalogue have to do with Daniel’s farm?”

“Uncle Isaac said they sell more toys by mail than they do in the toy shop. People who visit take a catalogue home with them and then order toys for birthdays. And with Christmas coming, Uncle Isaac thinks there will be even more orders. And Mr. Lapp? He says farming takes too much time. By selling land to Mr. Stoltzfus, Mr. Stoltzfus can grow more crops and make more money, while Mr. Lapp and my uncle can spend days making toys.”

She mulled over everything Esther said and came up with yet another set of questions. “But you said he sold
part
of his farm, didn’t you? That means he could return to the land to earn his way if he needed to, right?”

Esther’s head was shaking before Claire had even finished speaking, the reason for the rather simple motion chilling. “Farmland is becoming hard to come by for the Amish. There is not enough land for everyone to farm. It is why so
many make money in other ways now. The bigger farms can grow more. Mr. Lapp’s farm is no longer big enough to grow multiple crops. Dat thought it was bad for Mr. Lapp to sell, but Mr. Lapp did not ask Dat’s advice.”

“And if he had no choice but to go back to farming?” Claire asked. “What then?”

“He would have to move to a different Amish community where there is more land. Dat says there is still land in Wisconsin. Up high in New York, too.” Esther looked down at the toy in her hand and smiled just a little before setting it back on the counter. “But Mr. Lapp would not go. His Mamm and Dat are too old to move. It is his place to stay and take care of them.”

There was no doubt Claire still had much to learn about the Amish and their beliefs, but one thing she did know was that their elders didn’t go into nursing homes or retirement communities the way their English counterparts so often did. Instead, they turned their farms over to their youngest son and his family and then lived out the rest of their days in a smaller house on the same farm, helping with the daily work until they were no longer able-bodied enough to do so.

She reached into her pocket a second time, the desire to pull the note out and examine it on the spot more than a little difficult to resist. But she had to. At least for now. There would be time and opportunity to study the figures more closely when she got home that night. If it pointed to a motive for murder like she was beginning to suspect, she’d decide what to do at that time.

Unfortunately, if there was any real basis for the knot of fear now sitting in her chest, doing the right thing would come with a hefty dose of guilt. Especially if it had a pregnant woman’s husband trading his suspendered attire for the equally simple prison stripes.

*   *   *

D
espite spending a fair chunk of her day away from the shop, the five o’clock closing time still couldn’t come soon enough for Claire. All afternoon she’d done her best to stay busy, making lists of needed inventory, assisting customers alongside Esther, and answering the countless Amish-related questions posed by virtually every tourist who came through the door.

“You are glad for this day to be over, yes?” Esther looked up from the register where she was transferring the day’s earnings to a yellow envelope and offered Claire a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes I have a day like that, too. But mostly I am just so glad to be here, working with you.”

Claire blinked against the threat of tears ushered in by Esther’s words and willed herself to end the workday on a positive, upbeat note. She owed her friend that much, especially if she was going to be the one to ultimately set off a powder keg of shame throughout the Amish community.

“I’m sorry, Esther, I really am. Last night was just a really rough night on top of another really rough night and I guess I’m a little more sleep deprived than I realized.” She forced her lips into what she hoped was a believable enough smile then took the envelope of money from Esther’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.”

It was a promise she probably had no business making in light of the day’s revelations, but the need for a burst of optimism momentarily won out over a potential reality she was struggling to embrace.

“Then I look forward to tomorrow. I have missed your smile today.” Esther came out from behind the counter only to return long enough to retrieve her little sister’s new toy from its resting spot beside the register. “You helped me
when I was afraid for Eli many weeks ago. If you let me, Claire, I can help you.”

She stared down at the envelope in her hands as a dozen different replies rushed her thoughts. But even before she’d fully considered the merits of each one, she knew, deep down inside, that sharing her fears about Daniel with Esther wouldn’t change anything. The only thing it would do was make Esther worry, too.

No, she needed to figure this out herself. Drawing in a breath of courage, she gave in to the one answer she couldn’t hold back. “The best way you can help me, Esther, is to remain my friend no matter what.”

“I will always be your friend, Claire. That is an easy thing for me to do.”

A lump rose in Claire’s throat making it difficult to speak. Instead, she simply squeezed Esther’s hand and prayed the young woman’s words were true.

S
he inserted the key into the back door of Sleep Heavenly and pushed, the momentary relief she felt at being home quickly wiped away by a deafening silence. Glancing at her wrist, she noted the time, her heart beginning to thud at the confirmation she hadn’t really needed.

It was nearly six o’clock.

Dinner was served to the guests promptly at six forty-five each and every evening.

Which meant Diane should be moving about the kitchen preparing dinner the way she had been doing since Claire first came to Heavenly eight months earlier.

Yet no matter how many times Claire turned her ear toward the doorway on the other end of the service entrance, she heard nothing. Not a footstep, not a clank of a pot, not a clink of ice against a water glass. Just complete and utter silence.

Slowly, she made her way through the vestibule and into
the kitchen, the absence of any life merely visual proof for what her ears had already determined. Closer inspection of her surroundings yielded a dozen homemade pot pies waiting on a counter beside an already preheated oven.

A quick scan of the handwritten recipe card beside the hefty portions allowed Claire to place them in the oven and set the timer. With that done, she continued her search into the dining room, the carefully set table smoothing her worries a smidge.

Whatever had come up to veer Diane from her usual tasks had come up fairly recently. Perhaps a guest had needed a new towel? Or maybe a remote in one of the rooms needed a fresh pair of batteries?

Still, she continued from room to room on the first floor of the inn, her need to verify her aunt’s well-being driving her feet forward. A faint click off to her left caught her attention and she turned in that direction, the soothing sounds of Diane’s voice greeting her footfalls halfway down the hall.

“Thank heavens, I’ve been looking all over for you, Aunt Diane…” The words vanished from her lips as she stopped in front of the now-open door and caught her first glimpse of Ann Karble since the woman’s arrival at the inn.

That Ann Karble had been vibrant, poised, and confident, her clothes and her shoes a dead giveaway to the money her husband earned as owner and president of one of the country’s largest toy manufacturers. This Ann Karble was but a shell of her former self. The eyes that had been so expertly and tastefully made up at arrival were now puffy and red-rimmed. The cheeks that had sported such a healthy glow were now ghastly white. The body that had hinted at the exercise regimen that had the woman running before dawn only days earlier now appeared fatigued.

Diane grabbed hold of Claire’s hand and tugged her inside the room, the door clicking shut behind them. “Oh, Claire. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got to see to dinner before the guests come down to an empty table and uncooked pot pies. But—”

She pulled her gaze from Ann’s distraught face and fixed it, instead, on her aunt. “I put them in the oven about five minutes ago. They’ll be ready at just the right time.”

A hasty kiss on her cheek let her know she’d made the right call even before the whispered follow-up commenced. “Thank you, dear. But I need to see to the bread and the drinks, too. Would you mind sitting in here with Ann for a little while? She could use the company.” Lowering her voice still further, Diane yanked her head toward the woman on the bed. “I’m growing worried about her and I’d feel better if I knew you were in here with her while I get things finished up in the kitchen.”

“Uh, sure. I can do that.” But even as she said it, she was well aware of her desire to run the other way. Her day had been wearisome enough all on its own. Trying to come up with ways to cheer up a mourning woman wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned her evening.

Still, as Diane disappeared into the hallway, Claire perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed and offered the victim’s wife what she hoped was a friendly yet respectful smile. “Mrs. Karble? I’m so very sorry about your husband. I truly am. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to—”

“Business was so good,” Ann said in a voice that was both haunting and broken. “We were rolling out plenty of new toys for the holiday season. I don’t know why we had to come here.”

Claire hooked her knee upward onto the bed and turned
to afford a better view of the brunette, the woman’s words not meshing with the argument that had woken everyone from their sleep the night before the murder. “But you
knew
about the Amish line…”

Ann’s eyes closed momentarily only to reopen and look at Claire. “Of course I knew about the new line. I knew about everything that happened at Karble Toys. It was
my
company, not Robert’s.”

Her foot dropped back to the ground. “
Your
company? B-but…how? I thought it was your husband’s.”

A part laugh, part strangled cry emerged from Ann’s throat. “Because that’s what we told people. Even our employees didn’t know. Still don’t, though that’ll change soon enough.”